Reminders
by Grand-Illusion
Summary: So what WAS the relationship between Franky and Joe? Warning: I don't much like Polly or Joe, and that shows. Critique, please! PG-13 for sexual content, may be overrated


**Reminders**

Author: Grand-Illusion

So what WAS the relationship between Franky and Joe? One-shot. A little AU, perhaps – I need to watch the movie again to make sure my facts are straight.

Rating: PG-13 (sexual innuendo and references – maybe overrated)

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Joe sat on his bed, holding his head in his hands. It was gorgeous outside – a glorious day, perfect for Sky Captain. But he didn't feel all that heroic at this point in time. On the bed next to him sat what appeared, at first glance, to be a bit of twisted metal, and with it, a note.

_Joe –_

_Found this while I was cleaning. Thought it might tickle your fancy, so to speak. Remember it? Funny how long ago that seems. _

_Franky_

With a closer look, it was possible to see that the metal was a figurine. It was a woman, with her arms spread as though she was trying to fly. The detail was such that, although the figure was only two inches tall, the look on her face conveyed both the hope she held of flying and the fear that she might fall. Her long hair flew behind her.

She wasn't in the best of conditions, that was certain. She had obviously been knocked around a bit, and had nicks and scratches all over her body. One eye was gouged out, looking as though the point of a knife had hit her. She was a little tarnished, a little old, a little dull, but in certain spots she shone. She was beautiful, a lovely trinket.

To Joe, she was a mocking reminder of his failures and his immaturity.

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"Look!" Franky said curiously, pointing at the ground. With her free hand, she picked up a small figurine from her feet. The other hand was held tightly by her lover.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A figure of a woman – or a girl, I can't tell which," Franky replied, examining the treasure she had found. "Oh, Joe! It looks like _me_!"

Joe took it from her, looking at it closely.

"So it does. How weird." He handed it back, shrugging indifferently. He seemed far more interested in the group of giggling teenage girls going to the Cinema. Franky looked at him oddly, and pocketed her newfound trinket.

Joe saw the strange look on his girlfriend's face and sighed. They had started dating soon after Franky's parents had died. She had come home one night and found them brutally murdered, stabbed repeatedly. All for the chance of a little money. 'Blood...all the blood...' was how Franky had described it. She had lost her eye when she had followed the footprints that led away from her back door. She had been looking for support, and, well, he could never resist a damsel in distress. He had been single at the time – that in itself was a rare occurrence. And Franky was lovely, intelligent, attractive, and ... very, very welcoming.

But he wasn't so sure about this. They had been together for a while, but the first few weeks had been mostly tears and, well...fun. For him, at least. She seemed to like it at the time. Now, however, she was...different. Colder. Intense. Confusing. Mysterious.

Frightening.

Joe didn't like to be frightened. He liked to feel in control of the situation. Sure, maybe he was a bit arrogant. But didn't everyone like to feel in control? It wasn't his fault he was about to do this. Not a bit.

Right?

"So, Frankie..." he started bravely, his voice a little too loud. "I've been thinking lately."

She shot him an amused look and cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Bully for you!"

"Yes. Well. I was thinking that maybe we should, ah, stop dating." He risked a sideways glance at his now ex-girlfriend. She was watching him calmly. Was that a good sign? Joe fidgeted, and decided to continue with his explanation. Usually at this point, the girl was tearfully demanding to know what had 'gone wrong' in the relationship. Joe wasn't exactly sure what to do.

"You've been different lately. A bit, er, cold, really. And that's not really what I'm looking for. So, ah, I'm afraid I can't be your boyfriend anymore."

Franky just looked at him. It was starting to be really uncomfortable.

"What you're trying to say," she said calmly, "Is that I'm not shallow enough. That you need someone you can control. Someone who has no depth, who's convinced that you're the best thing that's ever happened to her. Someone who doesn't think. Someone who, most of all, doesn't make you think. Someone unlike me." All this was monotone, calm and controlled.

"What you're looking for is someone more like Polly Perkins, isn't it? She's very feminine, not a threat to your manly intelligence at all. I'm sure she'd let you fuck her without complaint. That's what you want, isn't it?" Franky said. She was looking straight into his eyes. She wasn't planning on making this easy for him. Maybe she had been naïve – she'd thought she actually meant something to him. But no, she was just like the others. A conquest. Maybe even a toy.

"Since when have I been cold? Or is it that the fact that I have wit and spine makes you uneasy?"

Joe swallowed hard. She was too damn sharp. And that bit about Perkins had hurt. So what if he had called her up again?

Franky looked him in the eye again, lifting a brow. Maybe he was actually realizing that he had been a jerk. Or was that too much to hope for?

"I trusted you. I gave you a part of me."

"I didn't ask for your trust!" Joe yelled at her. This was too much. What a cold bitch. Dating her had been a mistake.

"Yet you expected the rest."

Franky sighed a little, and her shoulders seemed to slump. She gave herself a small nod – of acceptance? Or maybe a nod of approval to herself. Whatever it was, it seemed to give her the courage she so desperately needed.

"Good luck with the next one, Mr. Sullivan."

With that last shot, she left. Juvenile to get the last word? Perhaps. But who could say she didn't deserve it?

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He had called her next week, tried to apologize. He told himself that he didn't feel guilty, but he did, a little. There was a hazy thought in the back of his mind that maybe he needed to shape up.

But she didn't want to talk. 'Don't concern yourself with me,' she had said. He didn't know what the hell that meant, so he had hung up feeling unjustified. He didn't even have that satisfaction.

He watched her, then. Watched her grow in confidence, maturity, and wit. Watched her rise in the ranks, finally becoming Captain Francesca Cook, instead of the Franky he had known. Watched her succeed, just as he did. He was Sky Captain – daring, idolized, handsome, cocky. She was simply Captain – unyielding, with a razor-sharp mind and a good head on her shoulders. Everyone who worked with her loved her – not the way they loved him, but the way they loved a true leader. They knew she valued them, and they trusted her to make everything work smoothly and perfectly. She demanded respect.

He demanded adoration. He was good at what he did. He could fly, everyone said so.

He watched her steer away from close relationships, especially from men.

It wasn't that she was weak – that wasn't possible. She was hard and tough, and wouldn't accept easy consolation ever again.

Did that make him feel guilty? He couldn't say.

He would pass her sometimes, on the street, in a store. They would exchange a friendly nod, and continue with their separate lives. His immersed in girls and flying, hers immersed in determination to succeed.

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They were friends now, he supposed. Joe didn't know what she thought of him, but they were relatively close. To be honest, he was never certain what she thought of anyone. She had a great poker face, that was for sure. They never talked about what had happened between them in the past – he sometimes wondered if she had forgiven him completely. Maybe he would never know. She would mention the past sometimes, briefly – never long enough for him to gather the courage to try to apologize again. They talked over a drink occasionally, when they could. Both of them were pretty busy. She was Franky to him again. But she wasn't the same – she seemed older than him, more mature, maybe. Or maybe it was just the severity and perfection of her dress that gave that impression. No, surely her composure has something to do with it. They never talked about their relationship, and they sure as hell never talked about her feelings.

She had been right about Polly. Polly was what he needed. She was simple. He understood her. She never made him feel stupid, was never better at anything than him. She appreciated his flying. And yes, she appreciated it when they 'made love,' as she liked to call it.

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The day after receiving the letter from Franky, Joe went out to fly. He patted his breast pocket, where rested, along with a picture of Polly, a small figurine.

It was beautiful. It had been nicked, scratched, and hurt. It was chilly when it touched his fingertips, and he could never quite understand it. Who had made it, and why? Why did it look like it was trying to fly? How had it been made – it was clearly intricate and made lovingly and patiently. He had rejected it once, but now it was heavy in his pocket as he strapped into his plane.

The one thing Joe had learned when flying was never to screw up twice. You didn't have to admit you screwed up. Just don't do the same thing again. Don't look back, but don't forget about what's happened.

With a reminder in his pocket, Sky Captain flew.


End file.
